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Inara would be lying if she said that she hadn't seen it coming.
Meetings with her clients had somehow become a demeaning chore over the last few years, forced upon her by the rules of a society that she'd been rapidly falling out of. Month after month she found herself conducting business less professionally, not noticing or caring that she was slowly spinning out of control, because the bonds that she'd formed on that cramped, old ship, had become far more important to her than she ever imagined. No amount of long engagements or holing herself away in her shuttle could change that now- not even if she wanted it to.
And, then there was Mal.
She'd broken almost every code and rule that she knew of when it came to that man. She'd allowed lust to guide her emotions. Anger and jealousy viciously cracked through her usually cool and calm demeanor and, without realizing it, she had let him gradually ebb his way into every aspect of her life. It had taken Nandi's death for her to realize it, though, and in the immediate aftermath all she could see was everything that she'd worked for, everything that she'd ever known as a Companion, slipping away from her. And, instead of facing it head on, she'd run scared, the unknown and instability squeezing at her heart until it felt as if she were gasping for breath.
The cargo bay hatch had still been wide open, everyone somber and in their best dressed, Serenity's landing gear moored firmly to the ground, when she'd impulsively told him that she was leaving. It had pained her to see the look on his face, vulnerable hope turning to shock and despair. The only thing worse than knowing that she'd hurt him, was the overwhelming feeling of complete misery when she realized that Mal wasn't going to come after her. His stubborn pride not allowing him to plead for her to stay like she longed for.
The four weeks that followed, as she'd made her getaway plans and packed her shuttle into crates, had been hell.
Dear, wonderful, Kaylee had been mad at her for the first few days, but eventually accepted it. When that happened though, the mechanic's anger had turned into tears, and they'd spent days curled around each other in the safety of her silk sheets and pillows as they talked and just... existed with each other. The rest of the crew had been sad when they heard the news, but understood, everyone except Jayne who told her flat out that it was a good business move. But, Mal? She'd rarely seen him and, when she did, he was so polite and cordial that it was bordering on uncomfortable not only for her, but the rest of the crew as well.
Before she knew it, her time with them was up, and she'd found herself staring at Serenity as it flew away from the Training House, away from her, and out of atmo. It should have been easier letting them go and moving on, but it wasn't. A part of her had died the moment she'd stepped foot off of that ship.
Inara forced herself to play the part. Time passed by slowly at first- numb days and sleepless nights spent crying. What had started as hours dragging on as she stared at the clock in her rooms, turned into weeks, and then months. No matter how hard she tried to move on, or focused on her teaching, she couldn't get them out of her mind. No amount of waves from Kaylee, River, Simon, and even occasionally Zoe, could ease the hollow ache in her heart, the one that missed them so terribly if felt like she was being slowly crushed. She couldn't turn her back on the people that she loved though, even if the one that she wanted to hear from most was still refusing to talk to her.
Eventually, she reached her breaking point which, coincidentally, occurred only two nights before the Operative arrived. She'd slipped away just after dinner and collapsed helplessly onto the bathroom floor in her suite like she had so many times before. But, this time was different. Soul deep sobs shuddered through her body like waves crashing onto rocky shore, breaking bones and crushing dreams in its wake, and the reality of what she'd done had finally fully hit her.
She'd left them- left him- and she, without a doubt, finally realized what a truly awful mistake that had been.
Sheydra had found her a few hours later curled up in the same spot, clutching one of Mal's shirts that she'd accidentally mixed in with one of her loads of laundry months before leaving, her face flushed and pressed against the cool tile beneath her. Her long lashes had fluttered open when she'd heard the gentle whoosh of her door being opened and quietly shut again, and the click of heels coming to a stop in the doorway. Mascara sat smudged and dried upon her cheeks, her cheeks still feeling puffy and hot, as she wearily looked up at her friend. The exhaustion and desperation in her eyes had probably said it all.
The rest of that night they'd sat huddled together, and she whispered things that she'd never told another living soul. Inara finally admitted her love for the crew and, even more terrifying, her feelings toward Mal. She prayed that Sheydra could be trusted, that her secrets would be safe with her.
Those secrets had been safe. Until Miranda.
+
After everything that went down- the hostile takeover of the Training House, the explosions, the escape with a wanted criminal, and all of the hell that had followed- word had inevitably spread that she and the crew had been the ones to send out the Miranda Signal. They'd single handedly started a chain reaction that took down half of the Alliance Fleets. And, that? That made even the people on the central planets start to question the governments authority. Inara had already known that her time left as a Companion was limited, but that had been the final nail in the coffin.
For her, the news had come in the form of a wave. Her House Mother, a woman that she loved dearly, had regrettably been forced to her change her status with The Guild from active, to retired. She could tell that it had pained her Mother to do so, but they both knew that it had been inevitable since the moment she had chosen to leave Sihnon.
It was official. Inara was no longer a Companion.
It was over.
"You ready to get off this heap and back to a civilized life?"
"I, uh... I don't know."
"Good answer."
That was it, twenty seconds at most. It was a simple exchange of words, a shy smile, and a cocky grin.
Serenity is, and always would be, home to her.
Like most things in life though, there were times when she was alone, in the hours past midnight when everyone on the ship was already asleep, that she found herself remembering what she was, what she could have been. It was almost impossible not to grieve the loss of that part of her life, or be sad about it, no matter how happy she was to be back with her family. She didn't miss the responsibilities or the pomp and circumstance and, if she was honest with herself, she was still struggling to navigate her new life. It had been a long time since she wasn't under anyone's watchful eye, since she had to put on a show every hour of every day, and that was much more liberating than she could have ever imagined.
That was one of the reasons she found herself in the dining room once again, sipping on some hot tea, trying to savor not only the taste, but what it represented. For the past two weeks she'd been steadily emptying her supply, somehow convinced that with the last cup, and consequently the last of her richest ration luxuries, she could finally move on. She could finally become the new Inara... whoever that may be.
She grinned to herself as she heard the muffled click of Mal's bunk being unlocked through the open hatch and down the hall. It was almost like clockwork by now. He somehow always knew when she was awake, no matter what the time was, and without a word he would climb his ladder and make his way to her.
What had started out as a coincidence the first few sleep cycles, quickly became a habit with each night that he continued to show up. He had never asked if she minded his company, just sat down comfortably next to her, taking the copper tea pot from the set that she'd always preferred on the table to pour himself a cup of the warm liquid.
As the weeks passed, she found him subconsciously sliding his chair closer to hers, sometimes even draping an arm casually across the back of her own, until finally, out of the need for comfort, and she suspected her own desire to be closer to him, one night she had motioned for him to help her pick up the pot and cups and moved them over to the lounge. He never said a thing. Instead, he followed her with an amused grin, waiting for her get settled before he went through all of the motions that he'd seen her perform so many times before, serving them both two hot cups of their usual drink. Even though the tea had been a bit strong for her taste, it had been the best cup she'd ever had, simply because he had made it for her.
Inara grinned and mentally shook herself out of her reverie, looking up as Mal stumbled sleepily into the kitchen while running a tired hand through his bed-mussed hair. She allowed her gaze to drift down his body, his half open shirt revealing a few of his newer, still slightly pink scars across his well sculpted chest, his usual sleep pants slung low on his hips. She tried to hide a small smirk as he flopped down onto the loveseat next to her, so close that the full length of their thighs, hips, and shoulders pressed together.
"Couldn't sleep?"
She chuckled. It was the same question every night, and not once had he received a different answer.
"Something like that."
Mal grinned and glanced back at her, a little twinkle shimmering in his eye as he let his gaze linger on hers just a bit longer than he normally would.
The edges of her mouth curved shyly as she felt her body buzz with the now familiar hope that she'd always denied herself in the past when it came to him. Could it be different this time? Could he trust her enough to let her in?
Tentatively, he rested a hand on her knee, the heat from his hand seeped into her like it had found a second home in her, "You sure you wanna be helping' us with the thieving' on this next job?"
She covered his fingers with her own and squeezed them reassuringly, "I have no doubt in my mind."
He nodded and turned to pour his tea, uncharacteristically accepting her choice to be involved without a fight. Inara watched him closely and waited a few seconds before picking up the cup that she'd been nursing earlier, using it to hide the teasing grin that had found its way to her lips.
"Someone has to rescue you when everything goes horribly wrong."
He chuckled and shook his head, looking at her again, "'Spose you're right about that part. But, you didn't hear me say it."
Inara grinned and scooted closer to Mal as he leaned back against the small couch, sighing happily as he threw an arm around her like he'd done it a thousand times before and pulled her flush against his side.
It had taken years, but she was finally where she was supposed to be.
Home.
End.